The Garden of My Imaan Read Online Free

opportunities to interact. I asked Aliya here because I … well, because I thought she’d be a good friend to Marwa.”
    I wished Mrs. Holmes had picked Maggie or Sarah or Tracy. They were in Mr. Gallagher’s homeroom. Marwa and I would probably be on entirely different schedules except for lunch and recess.
    The principal stood up. “We’d better head on now. It’s getting a bit late.”
    “Okay, good.” Mrs. Rajab turned to me as we left the office. “Where you coming from, Aliya?”
    Why did people always ask me that? I knew what Mrs. Rajab wanted to know, but I didn’t want to answer her. “I’m from here. I’m American.”
    “I means, where you mother and father coming from, original?”
    I couldn’t hold back a sigh. I hated having to explain about my family. “They’re from here too,” I said, hoping I hadn’t seemed rude. “At least my dad is. My mom was born in India, but she came here when she was a little girl. My grandmother came from India a very long time ago. My great-grandmother came later and now we all live together.”
    Mrs. Rajab smiled. “Big, big family living together in Morocco too.”
    Our principal draped her arm over Marwa’s shoulders and walked her down the hallway. I followed like a robot. Kids turned to stare as we passed. My face felt hot. Was I going to be the
other
Muslim girl at Glen Meadow now? Mrs. Holmes’s heels clicked on the polished floor and Mrs. Rajab’s abbayah fluttered and swished around her heels.Marwa walked silently beside me. Up close, she wasn’t that much taller but she held herself upright like an exclamation point. I straightened my back, pulling out of my usual slouch. I saw Marwa’s eyes flicker, but I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
    Just before she entered Mr. Gallagher’s room, Marwa waved. “Bye,” she said softly. “See you at lunch.”
    “I’m counting on you to be an excellent host, Aliya,” Mrs. Holmes reminded me. “Don’t let me down!”
    “Assalam alaikum,” Mrs. Rajab said. “You very good girl to help in this. Thanks you.”
    I mumbled the Arabic greeting and ducked down the hall quickly, glad to get away.

    Juliana’s chair was upturned on her desk. I slid into my seat next to Winnie. “I guess she’s really moving, huh?” I asked, nodding toward the empty desk.
    “That’s what I heard,” she said.
    I held up both fists and gave a silent cheer.
    Winnie was my partner on the social studies report, and she had it spread out in front of her. We had a lot of unfinished work ahead of us; if she weren’t quite so meticulous, we’d be done by now. “So what happened in Mrs. Holmes’s office?” she asked.
    I told her all about Marwa. “I don’t know why she picked me,” I added. “Don’t you think Maggie or Sarahwould have been a lot better? They’re in her homeroom.”
    “It’s probably because you’re Muslim like her,” Winnie said.
    “We’re not the same!” I insisted. “She’s from Morocco, she speaks Arabic at home, and she wears a hijab.”
    “You mean the scarf thingamajiggy? You know who’d look super cute in one? Your great-grandmother!”
    “No way. No hijabs in my family.”
    “I know. I know. But if your Buddy Ma wore a hijab thingy, she’d look
precioso
. Tell me I’m not lying.”
    I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

    I didn’t eat lunch with Marwa. Mr. Gallagher was hovering around her, and I figured he’d make sure she settled in. As I walked by her table, she waved tentatively, but then Mr. Gallagher asked her a question. When she turned to answer him, I walked away quickly. And then I got very busy and I tried not to think about her for the rest of the afternoon.
    Besides, Juliana occupied a big part of my mind.
She was leaving Glen Meadow
! I could hardly believe it. There are some people who don’t like you and you don’t like them back. It was pretty much that way with me and Juliana. I especially didn’t like the way she sized me up every time she looked at